Jeepers Creepers
by OracleMine
Summary: A new investigation arises when a killer is out for young women and the eye's they possess, and it's up to the team to unearth a sadistically brilliant killer. But when Dr. Reid finds himself partnered with the liaison leading the case, he finds himself both endeared (and rather puzzled) by her personality. Spencer Reid x Reader
1. Intro- Murphy

"If there is a possibility of several things going wrong, the one that will cause the most damage will be the one to go wrong. If there is a worse time it to happen, it will happen then."- Murphy's Law

Whomever this Murphy guy was, you were going to kick his ass. With half a cappuccino dripping down your arm, shoes splattered with mud (the cute one's too), and fifteen minutes late on your first day, this was not the day to cross you. You nearly bit the head off of the security guard who asked to see your badge. You bit back harsh words, flashing the black wallet encasing a gold emblem. (f/n) (l/n), FBI.

You were from the separate division of the (y/s) Federal Investigation Branch, here to debrief some BAU team on homicides occurring at the capitol. Heels clicking on the tile floor, your squeezed past the metal detectors and front desk, whipping your head around to try to find a wall clock. Your over precautionary time check only led you to realize that your watch was a half hour fast. All that rushing. For nothing. Deep breaths, deep breaths. This left time to prep.

You ducked into the women's restroom, setting your disposable coffee cup down on the marble counter. A few paper towels fixed your shoes, and your sleeve was still damp, but a little less caramel-machiatto. You fixed a few fly-away hairs, patting down your clothes. You went for professional today, unlike the usual business casual you sported back home. These people were the big league. Though, the only reason you were sent out here was because you were the newbie (only 2 cases solved so far, and no one else was free to work on the weekend), you were so pumped to impress the pants of these agents. You would be mature. Witty. Intelligent. Confident. Basically the opposite of what you felt right now.

Untucking a manilla folder from your briefcase, you flipped through your papers as you walked out. Five dead bodies, female. All found with their eyes gouged out, and time of death showed that they were alive when they lost their sight. You shuddered, sipping whatever coffee was left before tossing it in the can. You wouldn't of been able to stomach your breakfast anyway, even if it hadn't been dropped in a puddle before you caught your taxi. With time catching up with you again, you hurried up the stairs, still distracted by the folder of horrors. The corpses had been found in various places all over the city, but always near water. It was an odd case, but you were sure the Behavioral Investigative Unit could handle it.

With the file shielding your eyes, and his cellphone distracting his, it was a collision waiting to happen. Papers flew, Polaroids of autopsies skittering across the floor, your briefcase clattering against hardwood before popping open. Your nose only neared his sweater for a split second, but within it you had an out of body moment of clarity. It was a unique smell, like mothballs and old paper. You hit the floor in a surprisingly similar style to your briefcase, the man above you teetering before catching himself on the wall. As the ceiling spun for a moment, any dignity leaving your body, only one thought in your mind. Murphy strikes again.


	2. Chapter 1- Friends?

"I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light."

― Helen Keller

You paced the front end of the meeting room, hands clasping and unclasping at random. This wasn't good. Not good at all. Your notes had been trampled underfoot when the briefcase spilled it's contents over the bullpen floor, leaving you high and dry.

The young man who had subsequently bowled you over apologized profusely, trying to give you back all of your documents as quickly as possible. It was embarrassing, to say the least, as everyone starred the two of you down, eyebrows raised. You had mumbled an apology, scooping up your work before jogging off with a flustered expression. Not the best first impression to the organization, looking like a clumsy intern who had no idea what they were doing.

You massaged your temples, trying to recollect any information on the case. It had been cemented in there for weeks, but still, you worried. A Ms. Penelope Garcia had phoned you a few days ago, saying she had all the photographs on file to be shown in a computer projection, so there was that. You tried to compose yourself, closing your eyes for a moment. You caught killers for a living. You could talk to a few higher-ups for a couple of minutes.

The team filed in one by one. There was Hotchner, affectionately dubbed Hotch, a serious looking man with a face of stone. A kind blonde woman followed, JJ, who greeted you with a warm handshake. Next came in a dark haired woman, who looked in a worse mood than you. Prentis. An older man with salt and pepper hair stepped in, his scruffy goatee almost hiding the welcoming smile he gave you. You nearly squealed, realizing he was the author to several of your favorite books, Agent David Rossi. Be mature! An absolutely gorgeous piece of muscle was the tail end of the parade, with a shiny bald head and chocolatey skin. He had introduced himself as Morgan, but had winked when he suggested you call him Derek.

"Aw, sweetheart, you've got your eyes on another woman?" Cooed a vivacious figure draped in bright purple.

Garcia walked in, grinning. Her hair was gathered in two low pigtails, her kind eyes framed with glittery glasses. And you had came in thinking you had under-dressed.

"Never, baby-girl, I was just being nice to our guest." He chuckled wholeheartedly, sitting down at the table.

You stood next to the projection fired up by Garcia, pressing your hands together. Your keen observational skills noticed an empty chair opposite the table.

"Are we missing someone?" You ask, glancing around.

Almost on cue, a lanky gentleman rushed into the meeting, messenger bag bouncing on his hip. Oh come on. It was the guy. The guy that might as well drop kicked your career out the window. You kept the composed face of a confident goddess, silently cursing him out in your head.

"Oh, you again." With a turn, you watched him settle himself into his chair.

He looked surprised to see you again, slipping off his bag to set it on the floor.

Morgan and JJ exchanged glances, the expressions reading 'How do the know each other?'

You cleared your throat, drawing attention to the bloody events on screen. "Now, starting three months ago, the ritualistic killings of young women across (city) have been reported. There are five victims so far. All under the age of twenty, auburn hair, walking home or to a separate location alone after midnight. Easy prey."

Garcia grimaced, clicking a button to display several crime scene photos on the projector.

"Each young woman was found fully clothed, clean, no defensive wounds. The only thing touched were the eyes. The ocular cavities of each victim was found completely gouged out."

The gruesome image of an eighteen year old popped up, her once blue eyes carved out in an act of rage.

"They were put with their arms crossed over their chests, wrapped in plastic sheeting. Sounds like he was remorseful." Prentis commented, looking at her copy of the case file.

"He definitely was hurt or separated from a girl with red hair. With the age, I would say daughter or niece." Morgan squinted at the compared photographs, trying to find an inconstancy.

You steadied your breathing, rather proud of yourself. They seemed completely enraptured by the case, no obvious flaws in your speech.

"On March 27, 1985, Richard Ramierez attacked Maxine Zazarra, proceeding to cut her eyes out post-mortom. He said he didn't want her to see him kill her husband. This might be just a case of guilt, like they were the only ones that saw what he did." The brunette commented, brow furrowed slightly. "Doctor Spencer Reid, by the way." He extended his hand, shaking yours lightly.

"Agent (l/n)." You repeated for what seemed like the twentieth time that day.

He was cute, and that was the only thing that was saving him at the moment. Dr. Reid sounded like a know-it-all, a "knocking over your notes and spoiling your first impressions" know-it-all.

Hotchner took a few moments to glance over the summary. "Were these women related in any way besides hair color?"

"No sir. Different ages, heights, weights, classes. None of them even went to the same high school. You see our frustration. You're almost our only hope." You admitted, deciding a a little flattery could get the case in. "We've been reading up on your previous cases. The Marionette Killer, the Angel Suarez kidnapping case, the apprehension of the Prince of Darkness. You guys are close to heroes back home."

Hotch didn't even blink, standing up to go back to his desk. "Alright. We leave in the morning for (y/s), the investigation is officially under the control of the BAU."

You almost fainted, the sudden surge of happiness knocking you off your feet. You couldn't disguise your grin, quickly following him out.

"Oh my gosh, thank you sir. I promise my team won't let you down. You have their full support until we catch the unsub. I'm sure they'll be fantastic." You gushed, gripping your recently repaired briefcase.

"No, we won't be having any assistance from the (y/s) FBI unit. Agent (l/n), you seem to be the only one competent enough to come down and present this case file to us, you're very well informed on the homicides. You'll be helping us on the investigation as a figure head. Be at the jet by five." He monotonously replied, ducking into his office.

You could have died. You? Leading an investigation? The room was getting spinny again, but it wasn't from the impact of your fall. This was the first step to the rest of your career. You swung back around the main hall, passing by the puppy eyed doctor.

"I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other for the next few weeks, huh?" You commented, waiting next to him for the elevator.

"Oh, uhm, sure, I guess we will." He nodded, seeeming to be very socially uncomfortable.

You two stepped into the small box, the doors shutting in front of you.

"No hard feelings about the run in. I was just pissy this morning."

"That's alright, I should have been watching where I was going."

The two of you stood in silence for a few moments. He licked his lips, once, twice, before glancing over at you.

"In the time we've been waiting here, 108 people have died and thirty children have been born, on average." He mentioned casually, as if this was common knowledge.

"Oh." Was all you could think of the reply. "Did you know a starfish can change it's gender at will?"

He paused before giving you a small grin. This would be a beautiful friendship.


	3. Chapter 2- Answers

You tucked your large over-night bag in the over head compartment, snapping it closed with a small hop. You were trying not to oggle, but the plane was absolutely gorgeous. Comfortable seating, plush carpet, free Wifi. It was heaven.

You had been handed a small tablet with a thin crack running along the screen. Apparently, it was JJ's old one, subsequently broken by her son Henry after chucking across their living room. It was still usuable, so they passed if off as a spair to you. Garcia could now send you updates and new evidence over it. Everyone was taking their places around a sleek black laptop, framing a video chat of the wonderful Penelope.

"Alright kids, I've been checking up on what's linking up the subjects. We've got nada. Blitz attacks on side streets, seemingly unplanned. Maybe he see's them while driving and just...snaps." The distant sound of a keyboard was the background for their techie.

"It would take at least some form of prep to make sure the kidnappings went unseen. They weren't killed on location, no blood evidence found. Small pinpricks to the back of the neck, where ketamine was injected. The unsub would have to have access to such drugs, and possibly a van to transport victims." Reid mused, pressing his pen to his lips.

"The key factor is going to be why he destroys they eyes. They weren't carved out, really, they were oblitterated." Rossi was examining the autopsy photos once more, where a pale 17 year old courpse was displayed on a metal gurney, face bloodied.

"So, white male, 30-40 years old, access to drugs and a van, with a fettish for teenage girls. That narrows it down to several thousand." You groan, trying to think of a new angle to all of it.

You couldn't help but take this a little personally. These were your people, people you'd been hired to save. The killer had you in a tight spot, and he knew it. Clean crime scenes, solid alibi's, no suspects. You were going to find this sick son of a bitch and be the one who closed the cell door behind him.

"Let's just see what we find when we land. We've had worse odds." Hotch commented, looking as sympathetic as a brick wall.

The team had split into seperate locations. Prentis and JJ had gone to interview the family's of the victims, Morgan, Hotch, and Rossi were investigating the locations the bodies were found, and Dr. Reid and yourself were examining the bodies. It wasn't exactly the most romantic of settings, the two of your shoulder to shoulder over a cadaver, but you were enjoying yourself minutely. He had kept you quite entertained with various facts about the eye, and you could now consider yourself quite the vision expert. The morgue technician had split for lunch a half hour earlier, leaving the agents to talk freely.

"How do you guys do this? It's sincerely messing me up just to see a couple of bodies. Your team sees a dozen per week."

"I dunno. You get used to it, I suppose." Reid leaned over to move the victims head. "I just end up blocking it out, it's just work now."

As reported, a small pinprick was just left of her spine. You crossed your arms, unerved by the gaping black holes in her face, just starring at you. You turned your attentions to Spencer, if only to keep from going pale. His dark brown eyes were a little sunken in, face aways holding the air of being somewhat facinated. A fringe of messy bangs fell over his eyes as he moved, the soft locks gracing his shoulders. You weren't exactly infatuated with him, but interested. He was so mind boglingly complicated, it was hard not to wonder about him.

On the other side of the room, Reid was profiling you. By the wave in your hair, he deduced you had showered and blow-dryed your hair this morning. While examining your face from the corner of his eye, he had thought for just a moment that you were rather cute, but just as quickly pushed that thought away. He and women were not a pleasant mix. He was either rejected or the entire affair ended in heartbreak. Plus an attractive, strong headed new girl... he wouldn't even take a shot.

The night progressed rather well, the entire team regrouping at the local police station. The female agents reported back that the family interviews gave them more dead ends. Each girl was good as gold. No drugs, alcohal, or harmful friends. But there was a diamond in the rough. Each househould reported a black van circling the neighborhood any time their daughter left for school or work. They had all assumed nothing of it, seeing as it had a company emblem on the side, signaling it to be a delivery van. None knew for which company.

Prentis and Morgan were going to stake out the neighborhoods in question, while Hotchner reported back to HQ. It was originaly up to Reid to look through medical records for any old or current personel in close contact with the hospital, at least enough to filch the ketamine. JJ had taken his place last second, mentioning that you two needed to go get something to eat, neither of you had even taken a break during your investigation.

The young mom was smart. She saw the way when one of you looked up the other looked down, the subtle way Reid adjusted his tie when you spoke to him, and that you looked completely interested during Spence's famous long winded explanations. Spencer and Jennifer had went through alot with one another. She knew when something was up with him, and you seemed to be the only explanation. Spencer gulped at the suggestion, seemingly a little aprehensive of the private dinner.

"Aw, you nervous for our date?" You teased, slipping on your coat.

"It's not a date. Is it?" He looked confused as he followed you out the door.

"Do you want it to be?"

"I-I...well..."

"Hm, it looks like I finally found something you don't know the answer to, Dr. Reid."


	4. Chapter 3- Andromeda

You both watched with slight interest as the egg roll lived up to it's namesake, tumbling off the edge of the table.

"Could we get a fork over here?" You leaned out of the booth, calling over to the waitress, a pretty young girl named Audrey.

You'd been coming to this restaurant for years, Chinese was a staple for a penniless college student. You had more money now, working for the FBI, but you came back for sentimental reasons. This was your comfort spot. Spencer, on the other hand, looked extremely uncomfortable.

First the chopsticks were "broken" (more of he didn't understand how they functioned). Then he was tripping over his words every few seconds. And for a coup de grâce of mortification, he was coming to the conclusion that he'd never been on a one on one dinner date with a girl. JJ had been a fun, almost platonic sport event. The only move he had on Lila was the kiss in the pool. And Maeve...he didn't want to think of Maeve. Especially in comparison to you.

"I'm sorry, these things...they're completely ridiculous." He starred at the utensils with a glare of contempt.

"Oh come on, they're not so bad. What if you..."

"No rubber band trick. It doesn't work."

"Alright, alright, suit yourself."

The waitress returned, two silver forks in hand. "Here you are, Agent (l/n)"

"Audrey. I've told you for years now, it's just (f/n)."

"R-right..." She blushed, shaking her ginger bangs from her eyes before speed walking to the kitchen.

It was obvious she was more than intimidated having the FBI in her table section.

"So..." You paused to spear a piece of chicken with your new fork. "Tell me a little bit about yourself.

"Well, ah, I don't know what to tell you. I enjoy reading, as you may have guessed, and I do play chess from time to time. I have doctorate degrees in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering as well as Bachelor's Degrees in Psychology and Sociology. I'm currently studying for a Bachelor's degree in Philosophy as well."

The chicken fell off the fork and into a small pillow of rice.

"Was that...six degrees?"

"Five, one in progress, so yes."

You blinked for a moment before retrieving your chicken. When your team had given you the summary of the BAU unit, the term "smart" had been passed around on the subject of their resident doctor. Smart didn't even cut it.

"I think it's amazing going back to college a second time, but six? That's fantastic! " You shook your head for emphasis. "You impress me more with every moment, Dr. Reid."

"You can call me Spencer." He smiled in light of the previous identical conversation.

Most people were a bit unnerved when he revealed his true intellect. You just seemed happy for him. It was a refreshing change.

"Me on the other hand, one timer. Studied Psychology and peeled out of there. College was pretty rough for me. No money and barely a place to stay. Scholarships only cover so much."

He nodded as if he understood. In his case, colleges were practically paying him to attend them. First a child prodigy, then a multiple degree student, and finally, a FBI profiler world renowned. Having Dr. Spencer Reid among your elite scholars was like pure publicity.

` The two of you ended up talking for hours. In some instances, it was similar cases you had solved. Your end of the conversation was short lived, but Spencer had dozens of interesting investigations on his half. Kidnappings, terrorism, mass-suicides.

"And then what happened?" You leaned your elbows on the table, biting the end of your straw with concentration.

"The church ended up blowing anyway, his teenage bride pressed the detonator. Prentis and I made it out okay, but it was still rather terrifying."

The owner of the restaurant was counting the daily earnings behind the counter, his son sweeping up on the other end of the restaurant.

"We should probably get going. We wouldn't want the Chen's to be held up any longer." You stood, Spencer helping you with your jacket.

Once his trench coat was slipped on and messenger bag pulled out from under his seat, the date progressed outside. The bell jingled above the door, a gush of cold night air making your face tingle. The two of you walked in silence to then edge of the parking lot, where the FBI standard issue black SUV was parked.

"I had a pretty good time tonight." You commented, looking up at the stars.

He glanced up too, glad to have something to look at. The good doctor had found himself trying to distract his eyes away from your rounded face, the curve of soft skin jointing your shoulder to your neck, the subtle curves of your body. Frankly, he was embarrassing himself.

"Me too. That bright star, up to the right? That's the center of the Andromeda constellations. It was named after the Greek mythology character. She was a princess, offered up as a sacrifice to the Gods. When the monster descended to devour her, it ended up being that Perseus was the only one who could save her. And he did."

"That's beautiful." You whisper, just star-gazing with your genius. "Do you usually talk up girls with ancient history facts? Or am I just special?"

He laughed, looking away. "Be glad this isn't about the mechanics of the average human psyche. I could go on for hours."

"And I'd listen."

Reid paused, looking down at you. His heart was pounding vigorously. Sure, he'd kissed girls before. But he was never the one to initiate such an action. How did one go about it? Eyes open or shut? Was the first date even a good choice? It'd been two, three days of being associated. He licked at his lips nervously, starting to bite at the lower one. Slowly, with the utter most caution, he dipped his head, soft lips almost grazing the utter bliss that was your mouth.

Until the scream.

Your head whipped around, breaking the spell Spencer's close face had put you under. You both shook the warm-fuzzies from your mind, trying to concentrate on where it had came from. Reid jogged across the parking lot, following the cries into the side ally. A recently deposited bag of trash was left unattended, obviously dropped in a struggle. The road opened back up at the back of the ally. The flailing legs of a teen girl were being shoved into a delivery van, a man with black sunglasses shouldering her into the back.

"Hey! FBI!" Spencer chased down the van, only to be left in a cloud of smog and dirt.

His gun was drawn, and with three shots, he tried to blow the back tire. He only succeed in damaging the back bumper, the large vehicle peeling out. The sound of rubber on road almost made him want to cover his ears it had been so loud.

You followed after, cell already out.

"This is Agent (l/n) of the (y/s) FBI Sanction we need a team out on Main Street. There's been a kidnapping." You bark orders into the phone, motioning for Reid to write down everything he remembered.

He flipped his notebook out quickly, scrawling License and Facial descriptions.

Meanwhile, you paced the area, huffing from your sudden exercise. You bent over, trying to ease the cramp in your side. A black hair clip was settled amongst the garbage, seemingly recent to the area. You paused, placing a hand over your mouth. That belonged to Audrey.

'Auburn hair, under the age of twenty, female'

Looked like their unsub just claimed victim number six.


	5. Chapter 4- Daddy

He could still feel your breath, hot and shallow on his lips. But this time it wasn't sweet. It was almost daring. He could feel your hands tangled into the hair along the nape of his neck, your smaller body pressed so deliciously into his. The image blurred into mere emotions and actions. Grab, kiss, lick, squeeze. Spencer felt you look at him with such fire, and...

He woke up.

Dr. Reid shot up in bed, rubbing at his forehead. What an odd dream. He hadn't had anything like it since puberty, what were they called...wet dreams. That was it. And even then it hadn't been so wanting. Or with someone he actually knew. He sat on the edge of his motel room mattress, pulling some pants on. After a few moments, he had his sweater and tie adjusted, ready for work. After yesterday's horrors, it was surprising he had a good dream at all. A miss Audrey Greene had been kidnapped at 1:00 AM last night, while taking out the trash for her workplace, Golden Palace. He had been there. He had seen her struggle and kick. Audrey was a fighter.

A streak of guilt crossed his mind again. It was horrifying to see someone snatched away, and here he was, still concerned about his date. You had seemed rather cordial to him for the remainder of the work day (which had gone on until about 4). But the two of you had a hard time retaining eye contact. No one had noticed, luckily, for there was no time to explain away the embarrassment.

There was a new break in the case as well. While investigating cases of missing eyes, Penelope had happened upon a recent news story. Kylie Harris, a local high school student, was in a car crash two months ago. The girl in the passenger seat died on impact, and Kylie had serious mental trauma. Her jaw had been broken, and eyesight damaged. The force of the windshield glass had rendered her blind. And as it happened to be, the girl had a bob of auburn locks. Hotchner was visiting her home right about now.

"Ms. Harris?" He asked softly, sitting across from her at her dining room table.

Her once brown eyes were milky white, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses.

"Very nice to meet you sir. My mother said you were coming...you're from the FBI, right?" The sixteen year old smiled wanly, fingers tapping lightly on the hard wood table.

"Correct. I'm Agent Aaron Hotchner, and I'm looking into a few incidents in the area. Kidnapped victims who have lost their sight."

"Oh, oh no, sir. You've misunderstood. I was in a car crash."

"I've been informed. Do you remember anything odd about the night of the collision? This could help us."

"I don't see how...it was just a mistake. I snuck out with my friend Rachel. We were going to go see a midnight movie, my dad wouldn't let me go. "

Hotch guided her mind back to the dreadful moment, and she was there again. In the rusted pick up where the nightmare began.

"I was driving...it was my brother's truck. And she was beside me..."

"It was dark, wasn't it? You couldn't see the road."

"R-right. Only the red light was glowing. It tinted everything. We were heading back then, it must've been two in the morning. I'm an alright driver, I was taking it slow too because I was tired. And this car..."

"What kind of car?"

"I don't know!" She was trembling now, her mother watching the two doubtfully from the archway.

"It's okay. Breath." Hotch's eyes softened, giving her a moment.

"The car whipped out from nowhere. It was going too fast...the truck was black, it'd be hard to see if you were speeding. It hit us head on. I remember the glass breaking...Rachel was screaming...I had my eyes open but I couldn't see anything."

Kylie rubbed her hands together, a few tears slipping past the glasses. In that action. she was back in her dining room, sitting by an Agent.

"Has anyone been...unkind to you, about Rachel's death?" He prodded further.

"No. Not that I know of." She sniffed, groping her hand across her face until she could get the eye wear off.

She rubbed the tears away with her sleeves.

"Everyone has been so kind about it. Even her mom, she understood it wasn't my fault..."

Hotchner nodded, standing.

"Thank you, Ms. Harris."

Spencer slipped his sunglasses on, hands dug into his pockets as he ducked under the yellow tape. It was evident to why Audrey was kidnapped last night. The unsub had already disposed of his old play thing and needed someone new. Hanna Jordan was splayed on the dirt strip beside the highway leading out of town, her white t-shirt stained with mud and blood. As assumed, her eye sockets were vacant.

"Hey there." You nod, stepping away from the cluster of highway officers. "We've got another one. He's getting sloppy. There's more skin wounds, bruises and cuts. He's angry we're in town."

You snapped on a rubber glove, crouching beside the victim. Once again, you avoided the eyes, concentrating on the ligature marks on the arms.

"Wait a second" Reid grabbed your hand, guiding it to a cut on the forearm.

A tiny hair reflected in the morning sunlight, which Spencer plucked with a pair of tweezers.

"Is it hers?" You puzzled, tilting your head.

"No, it's blond." Reid squinted.

An evidence bag was brought over, and Spence slipped the strand inside. You and him had stepped aside to let the forensics team check the body over again.

"Good call, Dr. Reid." You stood, dusting off your jeans.

"I told you, it's Spencer."

"Not while at work, you're not."

"Fair enough. And, ah, the parking lot..."

"Don't even need to bring it up."

You two stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment. You almost turned to leave and find Prentis, before Spencer quietly grabbed your hand.

"It wasn't embarrassing you or anything, right?" He looked upset.

"Of course not! I-I thought I was the one being a dork." You admitted.

"It was my fault..."

"No..."

You went back and forth until you both paused, laughing a little.

"This isn't the time or place, huh?" He shrugged, the dark glasses hiding his cute brown eyes.

"We can discuss it at my apartment if that's better."

Spence almost choked on his spit, covering with a little grin. "Sounds fantastic." Perhaps that dream had been a good sign.

Kylie pulled herself into bed slowly, grasping around for her bed sheets. A larger hand swooped in, helping her with them.

"Thank you." She smiled off into the distance, curling up.

The tall man starred at her for a moment, hovering over her frail body.

"I'm still here for you, you know that right baby?" He paused, kissing her on the forehead.

"Daddy will always protect me." She sighed in her tired little voice.


	6. Chapter 5- Gut Feeling

There were only a few tulips in the bunch, but their blooms were big enough to appear like a bigger bouquet. The petals were a smooth yellow, bright and cheery. The long stems were tied neatly together with a white, silk ribbon, obviously done so with care. The flowers were jostled as Dr. Reid tapped his foot imaptiently, moving the gift from hand to another. For the fifth time within the past two minutes, he shoved his sleeve up to check his watch.

After the last crime scene, Agent (l/n) and himself had driven back to the police station together. A lively conversation followed, including a date (or at least what Spencer interpretted to be a date) plan. Seeing as it was rather unethical for two FBI agents to be doing such, it would be a private event. You would meet him in the park by your aprtment, talk a little, grab some street cart food, and wander back to your place.

Spencer had arrived promptly at 5:59, and there was no sight of you, even a half hour later. A growing cloud of doubt was gathering in the corners of his mind, one he was trying his hardest to disperse. Dr. Reid waited there until the sun had set and the crickets began to chirp, just hoping you were running behind.

Your view was hazy, and you couldn't really comprehend what was going on. Your bed felt hard, smaller. Your wrists...you couldn't...you couldn't move! Your eyes snapped open, struggling against the ropes. You were in a wrought iron bed, ankles and wrists bound to the bedposts. Blood was trickling down, out of your nose. It pooled on your lips, tasting of old pennies. You coughed violently, the dank air doing your lungs no justice.

The rattling of chains caught your attention, your weak eyes trailing over to the wall. Her chubby arms were pinned up by metal handcuff, looped over a hook in the plaster. The only thing you could make out was a splash of red, not from blood, but from her hair.

"A-audrey?" You croak out.

She seemed to be asleep, or more likely passed out. It couldn't be comfortable for her.

This was frustrating and terrifying. You were a trained FBI agent, and here you were, kidnapped. How had this even happened? Trying to calm your rapid heart beat, you practiced routine breathing excersizes, getting a grip on yourself. Alright. You were brushing your hair, and there was the sound of glass breaking outside. You had gone out, seeing if a stray cat was getting in the garbage again. Before you knew it, there was a pinch and burning sensation at the base of your neck. Then...this.

Audrey began to stir, sobbing softly, like a small child. There were cuts tracing all over her thick thighs and arms, her face swollen from bruises. When she saw you, she screamed.

Spencer shoved open he office doors, fumbling into the room. The confused eyes of Morgan and Hotchner trailed up, startled by the doctors sudden appearence.

"(F-f/n)...I mean Agent (l/n), she's missing. Her apartment is empty and the door was open. There was this..." He yanked his phone out of his pocket, sliding it over.

It was open to his picture gallery, showing a quick snapshot of the wall. Thick paint was splattered on a blank wall, spelling out in crooked, misspelled letters:

"Father nos best."

"Father knows best?" Aarons forehead furrowed, long strides carrying him out of the part-time office and across the bull pen, to the sherrif's office. "Sounds like our unsub. I had a suspiscion, but never..."

He frowned, a bit peeved. Passing something off as gut instinct may have just gotten an agent killed.

"O-OH!" She exclaimed, squeezing her eyes tight. "I didn...I didn't mean to!"

Her frame became wracked with emotion, breaking out into open weeping.

"He kept hitting me 'til I told..." She sniffed, pearls of tears rushing down her face.

"Told what, Audrey?" You croaked out, throat raw and weak.

Your vision was going in and out, black creeping around the edges.

"Told who was working on his case. He saw you when he grabbed me...he made me tell if you were anybody important. (f/n) I'm so sorry! I never thought he would t-take you too." She hiccupped.

You groaned, your bruised ribs yelling. You had obviously had training on what to do if taken by a rouge unsub, but nothing came to mind. Hours of classes worth nothing. All you had to do was calm down and think clearly, but the ginger was now in hysterics. You could hear a TV blaring somewhere in the house, it was driving you crazy. Listening closely, you couldn't tell if it had been left on out of laziness or if someone was eagerly watching. Your headache was extreme, the force of it nearly splitting your skull. You sat up as much as you could, the tiny bits of slack allowing a hunched position. Audrey had started to calm down, looking over with watery brown eyes.

"You didn't do anything wrong." You finally answered, after some serious contemplation and biting back of anger. "You were taken by a very bad man, and who knows what he'd have done if you didn't tell him about me. And this is good, now the FBI knows exactly where you are."

You grinned wanly at this, regretting it from the split lip. "They'll find us. I promise. You'll be home safe in no time."

She sniffed, pulling halfheartedly against her restraints. "I don't want my eyes pulled out." She cried again, scrunching her eyes closed.

You sigh, desperately wanting her to stop crying. "He isn't going to hurt you. No one is. Now, I want you to wiggle your wrists together, yeah? Try to loosen them up and then rock them forward."

With luck, she could unhook them from the wall, and they would go from there. She was halfway up the hook, her forearms strained, when something itched at the back of your mind. The door creaked softly, and it was only then when it hit you. The TV was off.


End file.
